The Glass Room
by kneazleFTW
Summary: [DMGW] He didn't know of her. He didn't know of the floor. He didn't know of the room. He only knew that the red of her hair matched the red of the blood she continuously coughed into her handkerchief. [AU]
1. A Room of Glass

**Author's Note:** I'm. so. SORRY! I've been an awful writer- but the urge to OneShot the days away took over a few months ago... and it wouldn't leave me be! Oh well- I'm now in a pattern of adding one paragraph (or twenty lines of dialogue) to each of my chapters when I sit down, so I'll be updating How to Kill a Weasley and The Ending is a Happy One soon. Then I'll get back to work on my pet- Boys and Girls. For now, this plot bunny decided to eat my soul yesterday as I came to a realizaton that everyone comes to at least once:

Mirrors are made of glass.

Shut up, I know what you're thinking. It's just so easy to forget sometimes, y'know? Bah. Anywho. Here we go.

**Title:** The Glass Room

**Author:** kneazleFTW (that means kneazle FOR THE WIN, by the way)

**Summary:** He didn't know of her. He didn't know of the floor. He didn't know of the room. He only knew that the red of her hair matched the red of the blood she continuously coughed into her handkerchief. AU DMGW

**Pairing(s):** Draco Malfoy/Ginny Weasley. Of course. :P

**Genre:** Romance/Angst

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything vaguely familiar. The rest is mine, and you can't have it! -growl- Bwhahaha.

**Warnings:** Oh, this is so painfully _AU _(Alternate Universe. This means that it does NOT follow with the books- whatsoever, really- and it's just a random idea I had once upon a time, and I don't mind manipulating bit and pieces to my need.). So. Painfully. _SAD_. But you all don't know that yet, as you all haven't read my mind. Unless you have ALIEN MIND READING DEVICES. In which case, you should sell them on E-Bay. :D

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_I was born forty-three years ago to the wealth and prestige of the Malfoy name. I was pampered by my mother, beaten by my father, and, somewhere in the middle of all that, I found that power was anything and everything I needed. I attended a school- Hogwarts. I attended every day for seven years, topping all of the students in my year, and planning my welcoming to the Dark Lord's innermost circles. I had dabbled in the art of Dark Magic as a young man, and I thought myself all-knowing and without fault. I was selfish, and I took what I wanted and gave nothing in return. _

_Things got to be a bit of a puzzle, after a while. What do you give to a young, ambitious man who already has everything he could ever dream of desiring? It's not as easy a question as one may think. Love? Ha! That was a laughable idea to me then. I will not claim to be a stranger to women, for, while I play the game, I do not care for lies. Yet, while I had satisfied every lust my body had far more than once, even I had to be tamed one day._

_She was not a vixen, by any means. She did not have smooth skin, such as ivory, nor hair the color of ink pools. She did not have heavy-lidded eyes, nor were they the color of a clear midday sky. She did not have curves in which a man longed to run his palms along, and she was not wealthy enough for clothes to make the illusion of such curves._

_In fact, she was an emaciated young girl, with eyes large upon stretched, freckle-dusted skin that had an unhealthy yellow tint behind it. She was as innocent as could be, with eyes large and brown and showed endless amounts of, as if she were a newborn pup. She had hair the color of fire, though it was thin and often fell out when her condition worsened. To top it all off, she lived in a room of glass, hidden deep beneath the wizarding hospital known as St. Mungo's. _

_The instant I saw her, I knew she was dying. I knew it, and it did not affect me in the slightest bit. I was curious, I'll admit, as to the floor and the room- but I did not care, personally, what was happening (or what would happen) to the frail girl who I first saw looking at her Healer through a glass wall with a telephone to her ear. Not at the time, anyway._

_That was the first time, and, I suppose, it was the most ignorant of my visits. The second time, I was better- I was braver. She tapped half-heartedly on a piano key the second time, and I listened as she did so. I didn't hide in the shadows when I arrived, as I did the first time, but, rather, I approached her sanctuary without hesitation. That's how she always was in my mind. She was a flame, and I was the moth. I was cautious at first, but only then, as, from that point on, I was drawn towards her- just as a moth to a flame, hence my simile._

_I suppose I am getting ahead of myself- very well, let me start at the beginning. It was a rainy day in April, and I was only twenty-six..._

**April 23, 2006**

"Ginny, your tests aren't showing any progression of the problem," the healer told her, but the redhead did not respond. She simply continued to stare mutely, the phone connecting her to the elderly woman despite the glass. It was her own comfortable prison cell- visitation area included.

"Is it going away?" she finally asked, and I raised an eyebrow from my spot hidden in the shadows- direct little thing, she was.

"Well, it's not _spreading_, and that's what we should be thankful for, wouldn't you agree?"

_No, _I_ wouldn't,_ I thought darkly.

"I suppose you're right," the girl, Ginny, responded, switching the olive-colored phone from one ear to the other. "Does that mean my medication is working?"

"It's doing better than we expected," the healer told her evasively.

"Wonderful!" Ginny answered with glee, but she caught her breath and released a strange hybrid of a cough and gurgle, catching the contents of it with a handkerchief.

"Oh my," the healer commented, "your coughs are nowhere near as powerful!"

Ginny smiled weakly, but, as frail as it was, it still managed to meet her eyes from what I could see, "I noticed."

"Well, this is all good to take into consideration. But we mustn't slack now- we must continue on with the treatment!" the woman declared, and Ginny nodded.

"I would like for nothing else. When will my new tutor be here?" she asked.

"Well, we asked for him to be here as soon as he could. It was hard, replacing your last tutor- people are..." the healer seemed to struggle for the right words."Scared?" Ginny offered quietly, and the woman on the other side of the glass- my side- sighed.

"Ginny, I'm so sorry. I tried to tell them otherwise, but... well, anything contagious frightens people, and I had to tell them the truth when they asked if you'd infected anyone before..."

Ginny's eyes flashed, and I leaned in to watch. "It wasn't my fault! That was an accident- I didn't _know_!"

"I know you didn't," the healer said quickly. "The problem is, Ginny, it's hard to tell that to people who have already judged you as they have."

"But- but... That's unfair," Ginny argued weakly, and I felt my eyebrows furrow. "They've never met me- they've never spoken to me. How can they accuse me of murder if they don't even know who I am? Even felons get a case in court that allows them to speak to the world- I'm just here, in a glass room with no visitors!""

"Ginny, you know I'd do everything in my power to get people to listen to you, but I'd be fighting a losing battle, sweetie. I'm sorry."

Ginny shook her head. "Don't be. I know you'd never mean that, Meredith. I just... it makes me so _angry_. I'm not even exactly sure _why_- it just does."

Meredith smiled a sad smile, and sighed. "You're a good girl Ginny. We'll do everything we can to make you better."

"Thank you Meredith. Thank you so much."

I heard the sound of Meredith's chair being pushed back, followed by the sound of heels upon the linoleum floor. I waited for the Chief Healer to motion for me to go into Ginny's line of vision, but, as she came towards me, she lifted a finger to her lips in a silent demand of silence before sliding into the shadows beside me.

I opened my mouth to say something, but I was silenced by a noise I could vaguely connect to my late mother's cat choking on a fur ball. It took a moment for it to register, but, when it did, my eyes widened slightly. That noise was being made by _Ginny_. I turned away from Meredith to watch as the redhead laid her arm out on the very edge of the table before her, buried her face in the crook of her elbow, and coughed loud, whooping coughs into her handkerchief. I turned back in hopes for answers from Meredith, only to find that the woman had slid her heels off and was heading out of the room. She turned for a moment, as if considering something, and then motioned for me to follow her.

I did so without hesitation.

When we entered a hallway lit by the same glass orbs as always, I spoke in a hiss of a whisper. "What was _THAT_?" I asked.

"That was Ginny Weasley," Meredith explained, and I felt my eyes narrow.

"_Weasley_?" I asked, all of my respect gone for the girl.

"Oh, posh, _Mister _Malfoy- don't give me that," Meredith snapped, mocking my title as she did so and waving her hand dismissively. "You've never met the poor girl- don't go judging her."

"You want me to tutor a _Weasley_?" I demanded, standing tall, but still just barely standing an inch above the older woman before me, who had replaced her shoes on her feet.

Meredith huffed. "Yes, and you will do it if you want to be released of your debt."

"Merlin- are all women this infuriating?" I asked darkly.

"No," she bit out, "that poor girl in there is the sweetest person on this planet. Don't you go and taint her, Malfoy, or the gloves will come off."

And, with that, she turned on her heel and left me to stand alone, anger pulsating through my veins. A few moments passed, during which I tried to ease my temper.

"A _Weasley_?!"

----------------------------------

"Oh, hello! Are you my new tutor?" she asked into the phone, and I bit the inside of my cheek as I nodded.

"That would be me, yes," I told her.

She frowned slightly, and I awaited an insult from her. "Draco Malfoy. That's your name, right?"

"That is correct," I answered, not all that surprised that she knew my name.

"Don't you want to know how I knew that?" she asked me.

I stared at her for a moment. "Not entirely, no. I suppose it was from your brothers' mouths or some copy of the _Daily Prophet_ they snuck in there for you.

"The _Daily Prophet_?" she barked with laughter and I'll be damned if I wasn't taken aback by it the tiniest bit.

"How is that comical?" I demanded.

"Well, it isn't- not _really_, I suppose. But I hardly read that rubbish anymore. Rita Skeeter, y'know?"

I nodded tightly, because I _did_ know. I couldn't remember the last time _I_ had read that rag, but, then again, time was of no matter when it involved the past.

"If you don't read the _Prophet_, how did you know who I am?" I asked.

She hesitated, but spoke anyway. "You look an awful lot like your mother," she told me, and I froze.

I hadn't seen my mother in six years. She had fallen into a deep depression after my father died, leaving all of his business and personal agendas to me. My mother snuck out often- disguising herself as a Muggle or, almost as dreadful, a lower class witch, to get into bars and not taint my name. I couldn't recall how many times I sent the house elves to find her in Muggle London, nor how many times I had to take her back home with a hood over my head and a cloak swallowing my body. I had never thought to count. One night she found the ill effects of drinking alcohol with Muggle medication for depression, and she had been put into St. Mungo's. She had never left, and, while I had never gotten all the details, I knew she chose to die, and she did not accept treatment.

"You knew my mother," I stated, and she nodded.

"She was beautiful," she whispered, and I couldn't help but agree. "I never saw it much before, but I suppose I understand why Lavender Brown has posters of you on her walls. You're rather dashing."

I felt my eyebrows shoot up at that. She made it sound so... _innocent_. As if she told everyone exactly what she thought of their looks instantly. Maybe she did.

"I appreciate that," I told her politely, though not honestly. She snorted.

"Don't lie- I'm sure you get that a hundred times a day. Don't worry, I'm not going to stalk you or anything," she sighed, rapping on the glass that separated once. "Not like I could, anyway."

I didn't know how to respond to that. I was curious as to what she _had_, but I wasn't exactly sure as to how I should bring it up. I stared at her for a few moments, as if considering what to say. She smiled, biting her lip as she did so to show much of her front right tooth.

"It's okay," she told me. "I know you want to know. You can just ask, but I'm not going to answer a question that hasn't been put out first."

"I don't want to know anything," I said vehemently, feeling a bit defensive. "I am here to schedule tutoring for the next three months, and I don't need any other information to do as much. Now then, what was your last tutor teaching you?"

"A lot," she said, smiling that same crinkly smile that stretched her freckles farther out across her pale face.

"Specifically speaking...?" I asked, already irritated.

She leaned back in her seat a bit and stopped smiling as she began to think. "We had just finished discussions on summoning charms, and we were about to begin working on werewolves. After that, he had planned to lead me into studies on wolfsbane and the Drought of Peace, followed by a brief overview of tea leaf meanings."

"How do you do all of that?" I asked her, and she laughed a bit.

"I don't _do_ anything. It's all a bunch of lecturing- no actual participation, as we're not sure if I'd have any allergic reaction, or if it was an allergic reaction that caused it."

"Can't they run tests on that sort of stuff?" I found myself asking before I could stop myself.

She smiled again, biting her bottom lip just slightly once more. "They don't want to take any more blood than they have to. They've run an allergy test on me once before, and nothing showed up. However, that doesn't mean that it's not an allergy doing this to me. They can only test what they know- there's no room for theory when it comes to application of basic medicines in situations as... _extreme_ as my own."

"I suppose that would make sense. If we weren't _magical_," I said, scoffing at the stupidity of the St. Mungo's staff.

"Draco," she said, smile still in place, "magic doesn't fix everything. A wave of a wand and a few words may make a table into a clothes pin, but it will hardly make sure that the entire body is in perfect condition. That would make us immortal, in a sense, and that is unfair to the Muggles."

"How so? It's their fault they-"

"It is _not_ their fault," she said slowly, cutting me off and forcing me to quiet. "They are human beings, too. _Homo sapien sapiens_. We are in balance with them, Draco. We may be able to use magic, but Muggles can do all sorts of things! They've been to the _moon_, Draco- the _moon_. They've discovered things such as the atom- things that witches and wizards alike thought to be insignificant. We may have _magic_, but Muggles have _instinct_. It's a precious thing, and it stretches beyond just our natural instinct to survive. We wave wands to start a fire, they would find flint. If anything, we should respect them, not shun them. Can you imagine going through a day without magic? I can't, and I live in a glass box."

I sat, silently fuming within a body that appeared calm and apathetic. I'm not sure how long I sat there, but it was enough time to convince myself that everything she had said was wrong, and the fact that she could say it all with that same smile on her face disgusted me.

"I'm going to leave now, to plan out all of your tutoring," I tell her tightly, keeping my emotions in check for seemingly the first time since I stepped on the hidden floor with this strange glass room. "And, Miss Weasley?"

"Yes?" she asked, innocent to the core as she looked up at me with large brown eyes.

"I would prefer it if you referred to me as Mr. Malfoy from now on," I informed her, standing and straightening my robes with the hand that wasn't holding the phone.

She looked surprised, but only just. She smiled almost knowingly at me before speaking. "How rude of me, of course I'll call you Mr. Malfoy. But I'd appreciate it if you'd begin calling me Ginny. Miss Weasley makes me sound like I'm on my death bed!"

I nodded tightly as I looked at her in a manner I assumed appeared incredulous before hanging up the phone, turning on my heel and exiting the room that held her glass cage.

"Goodbye Mister Malfoy!"

---

_Of our first meeting, I can remember those words most of all. Her goodbye had more of an impact on me than what I had thought to be a pathetic excuse for a lecture about Muggles being equal to those of magical capacities. _

_I could hear her through the glass, and something about the happiness in those words- the hope and glee every young girl has and eventually grows out of- shook me to the core, though I didn't realize it._

_I wouldn't realize it until later on, once I was nestled perfectly within a web of events I could never have imagined at the age of twenty-six. Even at the age of forty I struggle to be as she was. Inside, she was everything wise, gentle, and honest... I hated her for that, I think... However, on the outside, she was dying. _

_Even my ignorant twenty-six-year-old self knew that._

_

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_

**Author's Note: **What do you think? I'm glad to be starting on this plot bunny. Expect updates on the others soon. Also, due to the fact that my beta can't handle another story being dropped on her lap right now, I'd like to warn you all that this is going to be rough to say the least. Bah. Next chapter to come... soon.


	2. A Woman of Ambition

**Author's Note: **Sorry for the wait. I was getting this through to my wonderful beta before I took off for two weeks of camp. Enjoy the second chapter of The Glass Room. :)

This is dedicated to ProtegoNOX for being amazing. ;)

**Disclaimer:** Not Mine.

**Warnings: **Alternate Universe (AU). OOC-ness on Ginny's end. I try to balance that out with really good IC-ness on Draco's end, but... shmeh. :)

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_When I was a boy, I considered love a weakness_;_a crack in the fortress, I suppose. I had never been shown love from my father, and my mother's "love" was simply her babying me because I was her son, and I had to be perfect. Don't get me wrong- I respected my parents, and I... cared for them, but I cannot say that that feeling was love. _

_I might have argued as much once upon a time, but meeting Ginny was the beginning of a long period of me tossing my teachings and beliefs out the window, and while most of the time I spent with her is blurred and locked away in the part of my mind that is only for happier things, I can sometimes see her when I close my eyes._

_I can see that lop-sided smile that lets__her front tooth show and the splash of freckles that stretched out across pale, unhealthy skin.__I can see the vivid red of her hair just for a moment before the image evaporates into the darkness, leaving spots of light behind my eyelids for me to stare at until I choose to open my eyes once more. _

_I thought love was a weakness, and I suppose it is in certain situations- in certain people. But Ginny's strength came from love- the love of her friends and family, and the love that she had for them in return. Realizing this shook me to the core__I won't deny the anger and frustration I felt because of he. On many nights, as I laid alone in a bed much too large for just myself, I questioned__my upbringing and fell into mercilessly wonderful dreams._

_I was only a boy then- I hadn't become a man on my seventeenth birthday as I thought I would. It was the teaching of a young girl, a girl who was supposed to be my student, that brought me down to earth and rooted me to the ground. I was an arrogant boy and she was a sickly girl. I had the world at my feet, she saw the world in her books. I taught her magic, and she taught me the harsh, cruel ways of life._

_It seems so selfish of me, looking back on it. But I know, in my own way, I gave her something, or so I'd like to say. Before anything else, Ginny was a giver. She gave and gave and gave, and that made her the happiest person alive, despite how close she danced with Death. Before fate took our lives and shook them one final time, Ginny gave me something no one else ever had, and she was happy. If she was happy, I was happy. We were happy, and, in our own respected ways, we were loved._

The notes were strange to hear through the glass, but the melody was one I had known since my childhood. I sat down silently in the chair set before her glass confinement, and I stared at the telephone for a moment before allowing my eyes to fall back upon the redhead who sat, so determined, before the piano, playing incorrect note after incorrect note. Finally, with a sigh, she gave up and pulled the wooden cover back over the keys, shaking her head as she did so. When she finished, she turned and caught my eye.

She seemed surprised only for a moment before sliding back into a comfortable smile and calm demeanor.

"Hello, Mister Malfoy," she said to me, inclining her head. "I'm sure you'll be pleased to know that my brothers were not very happy to hear you'd be tutoring me."

She moved towards the chair opposite of the glass to me. I didn't blink as I stared at her, watching as she took in light breaths frequently, as though the normal amount of air one needed was not enough. She was greedy, and took the air in with all that she had.

"Were you expecting them to be?" I asked cooly as she took her seat.

She shook her head. "No, but I was curious as to what their reactions would be. Ron was by far the worst. He turned about twelve different shades of red before saying goodbye, that he loved me, and stomping out into the hallway to yell at Meredith."

I hadn't asked for her entire life story. I didn't respond to it. I simply stared at her apathetically and she smiled calmly, as though she had never expected a response. I thought the silence would drag out for several minutes until-

"I never realized just how much they hated you until about six hours ago," she informed me.

I raised an eyebrow at that. How could she not have known?

"Do you want to ask me something?" she asked. "You look... thrown off."

"I have nothing to ask _you_," I told her icily.

She didn't falter. "Oh, I'm sorry. We should begin my lesson then, right?"

"That's correct," I said slowly, carefully letting her now (albeit silently) that she wasn't telling me anything I didn't already know. I then do into an explanation on the uses of monkwood. Although she had known it as wolfsbane, she caught onto the alternate name quickly.

An hour passed. I was still lecturing, and she was still listening intently, when Meredith entered the room.

"Hello Ginny, dear," the woman said, stepping into my line of vision just enough so I could see the white of her lab jacket. She barely flicked her eyes in my direction before allowing a curt, "Mister Malfoy."

"Hello, Meredith," Ginny responded warmly, but her voice dropped. "You're not here to get blood, are you?"

Meredith frowned, and the age lines beside her mouth deepened. "I'm afraid so, Ginny."

"Can't you come back tomorrow?" Ginny asked in a manner that reminded me of a small child not wanting to take her evening bath. I fought the urge to raise an eyebrow at her behavior as I sat a little stiffer.

"Ginny," Meredith said sternly, "we have to collect your blood ever three weeks- you know that."

Ginny sighed. There was something defeated about her. She was completely different from the girl who had hung off of my every word only moments prior. "Okay," she finally breathed, "you can come in. But please... don't bring the big needle."

"I promise I won't, Ginny," Meredith said solemnly, and left the room.

I stared at Ginny, livid with the girl for showing her emotions as she had. _A strong person wouldn't show their fears!_ I thought to myself. _They would take the pain without hesitation, and they would swallow their cries. That is what Father taught me. That is what it takes to make it in the real world._

The silence between us was thunderous, and I glared at her head as she sat, staring at her hands (which she was wringing nervously in her lap) whilest biting her bottom lip. I was exasperated at the idea of her not turning her head towards me, and I intensified my glare, but she simply continued on, not quite looking at anything, but seeing everything.

The moment broke, and she looked up at me, smiling that lop-sided smile of hers. "It's nothing," she answered to my glare, "I just _hate_ needles."

I resisted the urge to snort at that. "That's foolish," I informed her, and she shrugged.

"I'm just scared. It'll be okay, but, would you mind leaving?" she asked, looking up at me, though I didn't meet her eyes.

"I see no reason for me to do so," I said tightly.

Ginny let out a silent laugh. "Well, who says you need a reason? Just step outside, Mr. Malfoy."

I glared at her, "Malfoys don't take orders from Weasleys."

"Then they should take it from those in charge," came Meredith's voice, and I held back an angry sigh.

"Very well," I submitted, narrowing my eyes at the elderly woman as I did so.

I stood to leave when she touched my shoulder lightly. "What?" I asked, composed as could be.

"Before returning to this room, I'd like to see you in my office. In fact- just go there now, please, Mr. Malfoy." Meredith said in a voice that came out like honey but promised only bad things.

"Fine," I said, struggling to keep my composure as I brushed off her hand and exited the room.

I could hear her turn to pick up the phone (which I had abandoned at one point or another) to begin speaking to Ginny, and, after hearing a muffled 'pop', I knew Healers were hurrying to take blood from the gingerhead. I approached Meredith's office at the end of the silver-gray hallway with heavy feet. I was hardly in a mood to be told off, as I knew I would be.

The large gray door was at my fingertips before I even considered turning tail and exiting the hospital entirely. I pushed the door open to reveal an office with stained wooden furniture, polished and finished, and framed degrees all about the room. Not feeling the need to sit, I approached the row of bookshelves lined about the wall to my left.

Many of the Head Healers from the past had been male- if memory served, I came to the conclusion that Meredith Towers was the first female to hold the position in about six decades- and they had been jolly, warm-hearted men who reminded me of the Muggle-made-Wizard-adapted fantasy of Santa Claus.

Meredith, on the other hand, was a tall, lanky woman with a severe face and determination beyond the comprehension of the past Chiefs. In the few pictures that separated the volumes of encyclopedias she collected, her long, unnaturally thin dark hair was tied into a tight bun on the back of her head. The one family portrait she had up showed her standing beside a man with a shock of red hair and dull hazel eyes and a son who had, sadly, inherited his mother's hair and those same dull eyes his father wore. Had I not known Meredith since I was a child, as well as her son (whose name was, unfortunately, Bartholomew Alder Towers II), I would have accused her of marrying a Weasley; however, Bartholomew Alder Towers (the first) was quite possibly the least Weasley-like man since my father, and, though I was disheartened to find that I couldn't make fun of the Weasley hair colour before my family's friends, I got along quite well with both the Bartholomews. Though the portrait was magical, the family was still, only blinking once every so-often.

Meredith, however, was an enigma to me. She was a Ravenclaw in her youth, though she had befriended my mother (she never took kindly to Father) early on, and she was apparently one of the select few who didn't torment Severus Snape. The 'why' is beyond me. It was rumoured that Father had a history with the woman, but something about Meredith- or, perhaps, something about my father- made the idea laughable. Meredith was fiercely determined, but she, unlike Father, had a heart of sorts. She cared deeply for many people- including the Weasleys, much to my regret- but her career always came first. She was as ambitious as any Slytherin, but there was that thirst for knowledge and that dislike for manipulation that made her a Ravenclaw.

My mother always respected Ravenclaws while she was alive.

I was interrupted from my musings when Meredith entered the room, frowning slightly.

"Draco Malfoy," she said calmly, "sit."

I sat without making a noise. She wasn't overpowering me, but I knew far better than most what Meredith could become when angered.

"I will give you one chance, Mister Malfoy," she began slowly, "one chance to pay the debt you owe me. Ginny Weasley, like it or not, is your one chance. I place the utmost trust in you, as I have dedicated years of my career- of my _life_- taking care of this girl. I have known you for ages, Draco-. I have seen you through more bad times than good, but I will not- I repeat: will _not_ - allow you to ruin this for me by being the snotty brat that I know you can be."

I was taken aback by this, though not as much as I would have normally been. "What," I began darkly, "in the name of Salazar has brought this on, Meredith?"

She growled, and I stiffened when I realized the uncanny resemblance between her and a dog- perhaps even a grim. "You know very well," she told me. "I am not going to allow you to treat that girl as if she were a different species of human being from your high-and-mighty self. I knew before asking you to do this that you had taken after your father in several different ways, but I had desperately hoped that his silly superiority complex would not be one of those ways."

I stood, angry at her on several different levels. "I will not be spoken to this way, Madam Towers," I said slowly, clenching my hands to keep either of them from going to my wand. "You have insulted my family and myself more times than I'd like to count since I graciously came to do this favour of yours."

"Graciously?" she asked, barking in laughter. "Gracious my arse, Malfoy. You are here to wipe away a debt you owe me- nothing more. Don't patronize me by pretending to be a good man through and through- or, worse, a Gryffindor!"

I clenched my teeth now, glaring at her as darkly as I could. "You tricked me into that debt to begin with!"

"Does it matter? In my position, you, being the Slytherin that you are, would have done the same thing."

I cursed her in my mind, and I pictured showing her just how _Slytherin_ I was, but I did not. She was right, and, though I hated it with ever fiber of my being, I couldn't argue with her. Well, I could have, but I would have simply shown her what a child I was, and she would revel in that. I would not allow for that to happen, so I held my temper in check.

"Ginny Weasley," she said slowly, lowering herself onto the surface of her large desk while looking at me, "is dying. We're not sure how, as much as it pains me to admit. We're not even sure when it'll happen. But she's dying. We've looked at hundreds of Muggle diseases- the kinds that our magic fights off automatically- and yet everything comes back negative. It is simply the will of some higher deity that she die, it would seem, and die she shall."

"We'll all die," I drawled, still glaring at the woman."True, we will. But this fate that Ginevra has been resigned to is unfair. She hasn't seen real sunshine in years- only through Vitamin tablets and simulations has she been able to feel happy and stay healthy. The glass room isn't only for supervision- we often use magic to simulate the outside world. She knows it isn't real, but she smiles and enjoys it anyway. She knows, Draco. She knows she's dying, but she hasn't stopped fighting."

I snorted at that. "She has barely raised her tone with me, let alone fought."

"Don't be a fool, Draco!" Meredith cried. "Ginny doesn't fight with people- she wouldn't even if she had the energy to do so. No, she's far too fighting whatever it is that's killing her to bother with the likes of a foolish boy like you! She isn't winning, but, with the help of some medication, she's not exactly losing, either!"

I was silent, and I was absolutely livid. I used every ounce of control I could muster to hold my temper as Meredith, too, struggled to keep our dispute between words as opposed to wands.

"She isn't losing now, Draco," she told me quietly after a few moments, "but, given time, that disease will be victorious. And we will all have lost. All Ginny can do is attempt to enjoy what little time she has left, and your snide remarks- your fierce determination to not not to like her- could be something she'll have to live with until she dies. You could, for all we know, be the last person she speaks to before death takes her, and you don't even care."

I was silent for many moments before standing, looking at Meredith, and speaking. "I am here to tutor her, nothing more."

I turned and left the room, more than aware of Meredith's cursing and harsh glare as both met a cold shoulder.

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"You made a mistake there," I said. "It's two ounces of finely chopped mandrake root- not bezoar."

_Can you even chop bezoar? _I wondered silently as Ginny frowned.

"I see," she said. "My mistake."

I glanced up at the clock on the wall before realizing, with a start, that I had stayed an hour longer than intended. I groaned mentally, as I had known, before even beginning the lesson, that I was fierce when it came to potions, and Ginny Weasley had proven inept beyond my wildest dreams. I had slowly brought her to an acceptable level over the past few hours, but I had gone too far, it seemed.

"It's time for me to leave," I said, standing with the phone still to my ear. "I'll return at the same time tomorrow."

"Oh, okay," Ginny said, not looking up as she scratched something out with her quill.

I fought a smirk- she was determined, at least. "Good-bye, Miss Weasley," I said, hanging the phone onto the receiver.

I wasn't sure if she looked up as I began to walk away, but she did speak a full sentence.

"Goodbye, Mister Malfoy!"

_Perhaps that's why I remember those words so much. Ginny said them many times during our first few visits. Mister Malfoy this, and Mister Malfoy that. I never even considered just how formal it was, even as I began to let her in on the horrors of my life- even as she listened without needing to be asked. She quickly became the closest thing I had to a friend, yet Mister Malfoy was still my title._

_But, again, I'm getting ahead of myself._

_I am surprised at myself for remembering that conversation with Meredith. I remember loathing her so very much for everything- for what she was, for who she was, for what she said, and for the truth that I later saw to be behind it all. There was always something about Meredith Towers that frightened me, but it wasn't the same fear as I had for the Dark Lord. It was a fear that she could die, and I would be upset. It was the fear that I trusted her, and that maybe, if I didn't pay enough attention, I would be betrayed. I trusted Meredith, but, at the same time, I didn't._

_My loyalties were jumbled as a boy, I'll admit._

_But, once upon a time, Ginny Weasley was the strongest ally I had._

_Oh, how the mighty had fallen._

_And for a girl whose very breaths were numbered, nonetheless._

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**Author's Note:** I'm done with that chapter. Onto the next! Bwahaha! (Reviews appreciated though not necessary.)


	3. A Monday of Imperfection

**Author's Note: **There is a good reason for this not being updated- no, I haven't lost inspiration. Instead, there was some confusion with beta-ing, and, since I'm taking this story so seriously, I'd prefer not to switch betas, as the beta I have is absolutely amazing:D Lots of love for that one, mkay? Anywho, this is here now. The next chapter will be written within the next month and posted once it's edited.

Yes I will continue to write this and other D/G creations as though the seventh book's last chapter was never written.

**Disclaimer:** No, this isn't mine. It belongs in all ways save plot and the character/family members of Meredith Towers.

**Warnings: **Alternate Universe (AU). OOC-ness on Ginny's end, but it's logical as she's DYING. Besides, I try to make Draco in character all the more to balance her not being in character.

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_I remember many things about Ginny Weasley and her pretty cage. I remember the canopy bed, dressed with pale yellow one day and soft lavender the next. I remember the smooth wooden piano that remained dust-free throughout the entirety of my visits. I remember the plush off-white carpeting and the Japanese-styled trifold. As for Ginny herself: that's self-explanatory. How could anyone forget the bizarre shade of her hair, her almond-shaped eyes, or the sheet of freckles stretched across her skin? After remembering "Mister Malfoy", I often remember her laughter. After _that_, everything blends together into the essence that was Ginevra Molly Weasley- or, at least, what her essence was in my mind._

_If I concentrate hard enough, I can remember her other visitors- family and friends, every one of them. There were many of them- most of them family, obviously, but I remember one particular incident well. One crossing I had with three of her visitors almost lost me my position as her tutor, though I can't say that I'm _entirely_ to blame. Even if I could, I wouldn't_

_Ginny had friends who could name off her favourite colour, her birthday, her weight, her address, and her mother's maiden name. Yet yet, after they left, Ginny never seemed as happy as one would expect. She had a habit of closing her eyes, hanging up the phone, and taking a deep breath once before opening those eyes once more and staring, unseeing, at me as I approached. She may or may not have noticed at the time, but I often caught some of her most well-hidden habits._

_Still, I'm getting caught up in things that have yet to be introduced properly. I suppose Ginny would tell me to apologize, but can I honestly be at fault in this situation? My thoughts are broken in a similar manner as I. I don't really know who I am these days- I know who I _was_, and I know that I don't want to remember. I know who _she_ was- oh, I know _that_ all too well. I know that much, perhaps better than anyone. I know too much about who we both were to focus on who I should be becoming; about whom I should have become years ago after we parted ways._

_I had my faults. I was cold- aloof, even- and overly analytical. I was self-centered and selfish. I was greedy and bitter. Most importantly, I was ignorant. When I first met Ginny, I was ignorant of my faults. I was ignorant, and, contrary to the old saying, I felt nothing akin to bliss. In fact, I'm quite sure that "bliss" was hardly a part of my vocabulary, even during my lessons with Ginny. No, "bliss" didn't come into my world until it was too late- until all I had were my memories, and even then, there were too many to sort through. Too many to hold on to._

_Ginny had her faults, too. She was optimistic- and, therefore, constantly let down. She was focused completely on the happiness of others, even as she fought for her own life. She was determined, naive, and far too trusting. She was too brave. She was too proud. She was dying. Perhaps the most bizarre fault of hers, however, was her ability to lie; Ginny Weasley was a brilliant liar- far better than anyone I had met._

_She had me fooled, I'll admit._

_For a long while, I actually believed that she'd pull through._

_Like I said, Ginny Weasley was a brilliant liar._

It was a Monday. It was a bright, sunny Monday with fair temperatures and wildlife of all sorts flourishing. The sky was a piercing blue without a cloud obstructing its beauty. The grass was greener, the air was fresher, and the entire mood of this particular Monday was a happy one.

I was, obviously, miserable.

I entered St. Mungo's in a charcoal suit and tie, and there was a special type of bitterness in my mouth reserved for perfect Mondays- as rare an occurrence as any in nature. I held a steady glower as I crossed to the front desk, veering at the last moment to enter a special lift reserved for staff only- though, as a Malfoy, I was granted obvious rights.

The lift was small- fit only for four people at most- and unbearably slow. However, I endured this particular drop with a grim appreciation for the invaluable silence offered to me. I pondered many things as I stood there, staring at the door, waiting for it to open.

The door opened eventually, and I exited out onto the floor. The lighting here was dim, but brighter than many of the other areas of the hospital. The corridor was one of many that would lead me to Ginny- and probably Meredith.

I fought a frustrated sigh before heading down the hallway, eying empty walls on either side of me.

This day was bound to irritate me even more.

I sighed as Ginny paused our lesson once more to bring her handkerchief to her mouth and hack a few hard, whooping coughs. If I had been any less trained in my manners or how to behave civilly, I might have rolled my eyes. But I was a Malfoy, and Malfoys are always proper- even to weasels.

"Continue, please," Ginny said softly, lowering the cloth, and it didn't escape my notice that, while it was folded neatly before, she was now effortlessly shaping it into a ball with one hand.

"Tell me of the Goblin Uprising of 1463," I requested, and she bit her lip before looking down. She hadn't been listening. I glanced down at the book on the surface before me. "I assumed as much. Allow me to repeat myself-"

"I'm sorry, Mister Malfoy," Ginny breathed. "But I don't believe I have enough strength in me to continue on with this lesson."

I looked up at her for a moment, allowing myself a chance to study her facial expression. I contemplated pressing the lesson on anyway, but she did, in fact, look weary, and the thought of Meredith finding out I pushed the girl (though how she would come to find such a thing is beyond me) stopped me. I also considered lying to have her consent to the continuation of the lesson. All that I knew was that I couldn't leave before our so-called class was over, and that wouldn't be for at least an hour and a half.

"I'm not leaving," I told her firmly, and she allowed a small smile.

"I knew you wouldn't," she started, and I shot her one of my darkest glares, "Meredith would have your skin, wouldn't she?"

I gritted my teeth, struggling to keep my temper in check. Father would have been most displeased if he found that I was incapable of controlling myself.

"Why don't we just talk, then? I don't know anything about you."

I furrowed my eyebrows. _Talk? To a Weasley? I'd rather off myself,_ I thought bitterly.

"There's nothing _to_ know," I told her.

She grinned. "Posh- that's a lie, and you know it."

My eyes flashed, but I grabbed my anger at the last moment and brought it inside once again. Her eyes widened a bit as she caught her breath and raised her handkerchief to her mouth, coughing four times. The coughs were powerful, and they seemed to shake her entire frame.

"Does Meredith know you're coughing like that?" I asked before I could stop myself.

She smiled sadly. "Meredith would only beat herself up if she knew."

"That's daft," I told her.

She raised an eyebrow. "Pardon?"

I truly did sigh now, wanting desperately to rub my throbbing temples. "She's basing all of her medical studies off of the idea that whatever medication you're taking now is lessening that cough of yours. Faking this will only hinder her in her mission to heal you."

She frowned. "I'm not faking- I _do_ feel a bit better."

"I'm sure you do," I said, wanting to snort. "Then again, I'm also sure that your disease varies in its effects, so you may feel fine one minute and then hack up a lung the next."

She opened her mouth to speak again, but she stopped as a strong cough tore through her body. She didn't have time to bring her rag to her lips, so she caught the cough in her palm.

When she pulled her hand back from her mouth, she could do nothing to hide the drops of blood that had come up.

I stood, deciding then and there to go get Meredith. There were several moments of silence as I headed towards the exit.

"No, please!" Ginny suddenly yelled, and I paused in my step, having never heard her yell. It was odd, hearing that through the glass, but I still paused.

I turned to her, and I noticed two things: she was stark white with fear, and she was crying.

I wanted, oh how I wanted, to turn on my heel and continue on my way, but something stopped me.

Most days, she sat in her cage, a calm, unbreakable air of dignity. She was a pretty bird, doing everything she was told, never raising her voice.

Yet here she was, Ginny Weasley, a slip of a girl, shouting at me as tears rolled down her cheeks. She was ugly, in this moment. Her freckles stood out against her unnaturally pale skin, and her eyes were too large for her gaunt face. Her hair was pulled back on her head, making her look somewhat like a boy. Sweat beaded at her widow's peak. If today were a good day, were I not told by Meredith to behave myself, were I acting more like myself, I would have laughed.

But I didn't laugh. Something about the raw emotion displaying itself on her face pulled me in. I hated it with every fibre of my being, but I turned back, and I walked to her. I took long, slow paces, never taking my eyes off of hers. She was shaking. She coughed when I got into arm's length of the chair, and I had sat myself in my chair by the time she was done.

The silence between us was thunderous.

"I- I don't want you to tell her," Ginny whispered finally. "She wants to heal me so badly..."

"But why give her false hope?"

She looked at me with something akin to sadness, but not quite that. "I'm dying, Mister Malfoy. There will be no stopping it. I'll be dead, anyway, and she'll be devastated. Why not let her have this short while to be happy?"

"You can't say you'll die just yet," I said, not sure why I did.

Her eyes flickered downward. "I can, and I have, Mister Malfoy."

The tone of her voice said that the conversation was over, but I was never one for taking orders from a Weasley- not even a sick one.

"How you were put in Gryffindor, I'll never know," I taunted, glowering slightly. "At least you were only there for, what, one year?"

Her eyes narrowed a fraction- it seemed I had hit the infamous Weasley temper at last. I was mentally congratulating myself for breaking through and bracing myself for her yelling, but she took a deep breath and grew calm.

"I'm a Weasley," she said firmly. "What more reason could the hat have needed? It's not about the _time_ you spend at Hogwarts. The hat searches your mind and decides what's best."

"But, at the end of the day, it's really your choice," I stated, just as firm.

She looked surprised, though it was hard to tell. "What? Of course it isn't. Then people with the mentality of Hufflepuffs could end up in Slytherin simply because they prefer the color green."

"I don't exactly understand it either. But I heard Potter discussing it with his two shadows- apparently he was almost put in my House. I'm quite certain that that would have been disastrous."

She perked up at that. "Harry? Harry chose where he was being sorted?"

The admiration in her voice made it very clear to me what she was thinking. "Potter isn't the only person who's done it, I'm sure. He may be idolized by silly little bints all across the Wizarding world, but I highly doubt the hat would bend to his will. That would require power stronger than the combined efforts of the founders. Potter was eleven and had been a Muggle-" I spat that word out, "-for his entire life."

"But he defeated You-Know-Who as a child," Ginny insisted. "A _baby_."

I glared at her. "And now the Dark Lord is back, so it looks like Potter only managed to do more harm than good really. Now not only is _He_ back, but he's more than likely livid with Potter and has spent fourteen years in solitude plotting his revenge on both the Boy Who Just Wouldn't Die and the rest of the Wizarding community."

Ginny shrugged. "He's done tons more good than anyone else, though. You can't deny that."

I smirked at that. "I can and I have, Weasley."

"So," I asked, glancing at the clock. I had only five more minutes before Meredith came to release me from my duties.

"So," Ginny said, looking at her fingernails.

"How did your family meet Potter?" I asked slowly.

"He asked for help on the platform," she said, glancing up at me. "Why so interested in Harry?"

"No reason. You just seem to have a rather large amount of adoration for a bloke who's just your brother's best mate."

She blushed then. "I-I just think it's great what he's done."

"Has he done anything for you?" I asked directly.

She looked at me and bit her bottom lip as she thought. "As a matter of fact... he has."

"Oh, really?" I asked, my lips curling upward in amusement- she was _lying_. "In your two years of idolizing him, what has he done for you?"

Her gaze hardened as she recognized my train of thought and my challenge. "He's the person who found me when I collapsed in the garden at the Burrow the summer before my second year. I owe him my life."

"Because he stumbled across you accidentally while heading out to do Merlin knows what?"

She looked down again. "Accident or not, I wouldn't be here having this discussion with you if it weren't for him."

"I'll be sure to send him a thank you card, then," I spat.

"Play nice, Mister Malfoy," Meredith's voice floated to my ears, and the threat was obvious.

I leaned back in my chair, nodding to Ginny before hanging up the phone. "Who said anything about playing cruelly?"

Meredith raised her eyebrows and turned to Ginny. "I take it your lesson went well?"

Ginny blushed and began to babble, and I decided to cut it.

"As a matter of fact, _Ms. Towers_, it went very well," I said, looking at Meredith without hesitation.

She stared at me for a few minutes silently, searching my face for any signs that I might be lying. She apparently found none as she nodded and dismissed me.

I headed out of the room, and I slid to the side of the door, ready to hear what Meredith was going to say.

"Ginny, you didn't take the lesson, did you?" she asked. I heard nothing, but I assumed that she shook her head. "Dear, you have to take your lessons. When you get out of here, you have to be ready to handle the real world. Now then, your charts came back."

I held my breath then, wondering if I'd be released from my debt anytime soon.

"It would seem, in person, that you're doing better, but the charts are reading the same way. In fact, some of our percentages have _dropped_. Ginny, have you been lying to me? To the Healers? To Mister Malfoy?"

This time I just barely heard Ginny's reply.

"No. No, I haven't been lying. I really do _feel_ better, Meredith. Maybe we should," she paused, as if she had to take a breath, "retake the tests?"

"Yes, yes, that would seem best..." Meredith agreed immediately. "Now then, how were your visitors?"

I couldn't risk listening to anymore of their conversation- if Meredith came out of the room to see even my _shadow_ still in this corridor, she'd go mental. A Malfoy eavesdropping was a preposterous idea, anyway- even to myself.

_But,_ I thought to myself as I moved down the hallway, _it _is_ my business, as Ginny is my student... of sorts. Besides, getting out of this debt is all that matters. Whether I get out of it by her death or by Meredith releasing me doesn't matter._

_I was, in retrospect, one of the cruellest blighters on this side of the Atlantic. I had not cared if Ginny died or pulled through. All that mattered was that I be released from my debt. Meredith Towers was a woman of many, many talents, and manipulation happened to be just her cup of tea. She was a bigger player in the game than I ever considered, but, looking back now, she is, in many ways, the reason Ginny and I soon began not taking lessons at all. Eventually, Ginny managed to convince me that lessons would do her little good in the afterlife (if there was one). She said that she wanted only to know that she had taken every opportunity to live- even if her cage kept her from actually doing anything that constituted as _living

_I... apologize. I'm jumping much too far ahead now. Ginny and I didn't end our lessons just after this particular visit. No, it took a long while for her to turn me around. It wasn't until two months after our discussion of Potter that she finally convinced me. We never spoke of the Boy Who Lived again. Perhaps his name was mentioned, but Ginny seemed to think that our time was better spent discussing things that didn't irritate either of us, and Scarhead, as I had "oh-so-cleverly" nicknamed him at the time, was only a source of discomfort for both of us._

_Ginny changed my mind on many things, actually. She never changed how I felt about Muggles, but she often made me consider before using the term "Mudblood", though I would usually say it anyway. But that's beside the point- _considering_ such a thing was far more than anyone else could push me to do. She had, perhaps, learned the art of manipulation from Meredith. _

_It took many, many months to get the results, but I believe, I truly believe, that Ginny had made me her own little test. She would sometimes say things just to see how I would react, and I would often react exactly as she expected. I had never pegged myself as a predictable person, and I'd never expected little Ginny Weasley to accuse me as being such. She never did. Though, I often wondered if she ever allowed herself to think as much. Perhaps she did, silently, when I sat speaking about small, unimportant matters._

_This is the point in the story where Ginny lied. Not only with her words, but through her actions. I had first seen Ginny Weasley earlier in the year- April, if you'll remember. Ginny's plummet into Death's grip began the same year- one cold, frigid day in December._

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**Author's Note:** Yes, that's it this time 'round. Chapter four comes next. Reviews motivate me, and motivation makes chapters; chapters make you happy so, in the end, reviewing is good for your health:D


	4. An Explosion of Notes

**Author's Note:** This is out a bit later than I had originally planned, but it's a good chapter, I'd say. I've done a lot of tweaking with the outline of this story, shortening it significantly for reasons that I think you'll all understand when the story is over. This isn't the last chapter, nor is it the second to last or the third. I plan on a MINIMUM of four more chapters, but, ideally, there will be six. This is all based upon where this story takes me, and how I want the characters to work. Meredith is going to be taking on a bigger role within the next two chapters, and I feel that Draco will be growing like a weed very, very soon. This is kind of the climactic chapter, I suppose, so I hope you enjoy.

**Disclaimer:** Sadly, the only things that belong to me in this story are the plot and the entire character of Meredith Towers.

**Warnings: **Alternate Universe (AU), Ginny can get a bit OOC, but is balanced by Malfoy being (hopefully) IC. Starting this chapter, there's going to be a lot of mention of death, and blood does show up, though it's not GORE, it's just a symptom of Ginny's dying.

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_December was never my favourite month out of the year. Even as a child, Father worked more than ever in this final month and rarely had time to pay attention to my mother, whose health needed all the attention it could get on bitter, ice-coated nights. Christmas was inevitably an unsatisfactory affair for the Malfoy heir. Family members gathered, ate in frigid silence, and departed, their judgmental eyes catching every wrinkle a four-year-old could manage to make in his brand new, handmade (and consequently expensive) dress robes. _

_Even when I attended Hogwarts for the winter months, December stood out as a dully-unimportant time to exist. No one worth impressing remained with me, and it was a rare chance I got to prank underclassmen or the general Gryffindor masses. Again, as an adult, I spent December neck-deep in end-of-the-year paperwork and jumping from Floo to Floo catching up with this important political figure and that. Truly, December proved to be the most tedious of the months to live through early on in life, and, as they say, things never truly change._

_On December 23__rd__, exactly nine months after my first meeting with Ginny, my feelings toward December were reinforced once again. One would think I wouldn't be too terribly surprised, but I am not so great a person, and Ginny was far too warm a personality. The combination was devastating in the little world we'd created- a world made for the two of us, divided only by a wall of glass._

_In our world, what did we discuss? Well, she spoke most of the time at first. She asked me questions, never treading on toes, never shying from a snide comment I'd make out of habit. She liked to talk about weather far more than any woman I'd ever met, and I found that turning the small talk cliché into varied conversation was a task done easily. It seemed Ginny could make a conversation out of anything, be it the weather, the glass between us, or of Meredith- oftentimes it was Meredith. Were they friends? I like to imagine as much. Meredith and Ginny. The two were so dissimilar, yet complimentary. A friendship born from necessity._

_At the same time, I hate to think they were friends. If they were friends, my sympathies are forced to go out more to Meredith than ever before, as, at Ginny's final breath, what must she have felt? How must I have made her felt after the things I accused her of? _

_Ginny would tell me that wallowing in such things is for those that have nothing better to do._

_Do I have anything better to do?_

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"Mr. Malfoy, what do you think of summertime?" Ginny asked me.

"What do I think of it?" I repeated.

"Yes, what do you think of it?"

I was silent for a moment. I wasn't thinking, I wasn't really doing anything as I turned the page of my book and made a point of avoiding her gaze for several long seconds.

"I think it's a season that separates spring from autumn and contrasts winter well enough," I answered, looking up at her for a brief moment simply to see her reaction.

"I assumed as much," she sighed, and stood, stretching lightly. "You've never been one for much positive or negative passion, have you? I can admire that, sometimes."

I nodded, understanding what this day would be. I understood that I would spend the day reading as she moved from the phone to the piano to her bed, all the while asking questions that were muffled by the glass, but still understandable to the trained ear. These were, secretly of course, my favourite days. I felt I accomplished something on these days, as opposed to the days that inevitably ended in arguments or cold-shoulder silences.

The notes from her piano chimed out in a tune I didn't recognise. Was she humming? I wondered only for a moment as I turned the page once more, allowing my eyes to flit down the page. I could imagine it well enough, as I thought it suited her personality. Only a Weasley would try and accompany an instrument as elegant as the piano with mere _humming_.

Only a Weasley.

"Hey, let's play a game!" Ginny announced.

I looked up, almost intrigued, but slightly irritated at being torn from my book by something so childish. "A game?"

"Yes! I'll play a tune, and you'll guess what it is!" she declared, her eyes shining with something akin to pride. No doubt she was pleased to have found something we could do _together_ despite the glass wall.

I was less enthusiastic.

"I'd really rather not…" I breathed, not necessarily trying to be polite with my vagueness, but hoping my words wouldn't be misconstrued by one Meredith Towers.

"Please?" she asked, coming to rap lightly on the glass as though it would pull my eyes from the book before me.

"I'd rather not," I said once again.

"Well, fine, then. Be a prick, see if I care," Ginny huffed, her tone light and almost teasing; playful.

"That was exactly what I was planning on, I thank you," I replied back, looking up to catch her smiling lightly at her piano, twirling her finger around a strand of vibrant, red hair. The only reminder of her being alive was that hair. It was the only source of colour to her whatsoever. Everything else paled in comparison if it hadn't already been paled by her state of health.

She soon went back to tapping an incoherent tune upon that lovely piano, her pale fingers pressing against equally pale keys with little motivation. I closed my eyes for a moment, allowing a slight smirk to grace my features at the thought of her humming, off-key and ridiculous in a manner that suited her entirely.

It was comfortable, here. I didn't know why. I just knew that I enjoyed a tiny portion of my time here, with this girl, in this place. I enjoyed it, despite the loathing I expressed with almost every fibre of my being, and I was eased by her silly attempts at playing- drawn from the book even Merlin himself couldn't have pulled me from. I would never have admitted it to the brat behind that glass wall, or to Meredith for that matter, but a part of me refused to accept her dying simply because accepting as much meant I would have to accept that I would never experience this- _any_ of this- again.

"Don't fall asleep on me," Ginny taunted from inside her cage.

"Don't play things that make me want to sleep," I instructed, returning to my book.

Several minutes passed, and I noticed that she was playing the same few notes time after time. Was she stuck on the next note? Displeased with how she was playing the current ones? I would have asked if I thought it mattered.

Then the inevitable happened.

Ginny missed a note- the third note of the series, one she had yet to miss of all the others she had butchered entirely. Such a simple thing, yet, something in me knew. I knew then that something, whatever it may be, was unfolding. Time stopped, and I turned my head, so slowly- why didn't I move faster?- to catch her dark eyes, so wide and, yet, so vacant.

She was staring at me, sweat having beaded all about her face and the yellow tinge beneath her skin more noticeable than ever. A fine stream of red liquid ran to her chin from her equally red lips, and, with a glance at the piano, I saw the firework-pattern of red splatters. All of this, how much time did it take? Three seconds, three hundred? I never thought to count as her thin lashes descended to meet their mates beneath her eyes and she collapsed, her shoulder colliding with the piano's keys in an explosion of notes.

I was screaming before I had the time to comprehend it all; screaming for Meredith, screaming for anyone.

The world was on mute, slow motion consumed everything in sight, and there was no "fast forward" button like there was on the bizarre Muggle machine that Arthur Weasley tried to get me to examine three weeks prior to all of this.

First came the masses in white. They wore suits that covered them from head to toe, a plastic-like facemask allowing them to see without breathing in unwanted germs. Two grabbed me from my spot beside the chair I had turned over in my fury to get help. They grabbed me and held fast, and the next thing I knew, my lungs were being compressed, my head was trying to spin, but too much pressure was on it for it to do so, and I couldn't see anything. Then there was light, air, and thoughts to think, all within a single moment, but this slow world let me experience all of it at length.

I watched as two grey doors (Had they been there since I began visiting Ginny?) slammed before my face, the small, eight-inch-by-eight-inch glass squares on them my only windows into what was going on. Through these windows, I watched as the glass that reached from floor to ceiling was divided into half, the top portion entering the ceiling, the bottom entering the floor. The men entered, a pool of ivory surrounding a form that stood out only with a ribbon of red that I knew instantly to be Ginny's vibrant hair- a symbol of her life.

Would it be possible for hair to fade, too, as though to signify a loss of life? I wondered, this thought paralysing me, constricting my airway as I locked my gaze onto that splash of colour like I have never held onto anything in my life.

"Sir, we're going to need you to move." The words echoed in my head, low and in monotone, the only thing I heard amongst a sea of grey and white. I was shoved aside then, and the doors opened, another mass of people entered, and then the doors closed, and Ginny's fate was no longer in my hands.

_---------------------------------------------_

December 28th dawned with me in Meredith's office. She had deep, dark bags beneath her eyes, and she was gazing sombrely, hopelessly, at an empty space upon her desk. I sat, composed as I knew I should have been six days prior, gazing at her, not betraying my emotions, and not knowing what emotions I'd be betraying even if I was doing so.

"She's still alive, yes," Meredith said, answering a question I asked not long ago, but long enough for her silence to break most of my walls down.

"You hesitated too long for me to just accept that as an answer," I inform her, narrowing my gaze as she looked up at my eyes.

"Mr. Malfoy, I've been taking care of Ginny for years now. Years and years and years, and, yet, this has only happened once before, and, even then, the intensity of her seizing was far less severe. To call her alive right now would be accurate scientifically speaking, but speaking as someone who has been with her from the beginning to now, I wouldn't dare call what she is now alive. She's lost all that's made her Ginny, she's gone."

"What could she have possibly _lost_? She bled, she shook, she pulled through. There's no room in that chaos for to_ lose_ anything. What could possibly have gone missing?" I demanded, restraining myself from standing.

"If you'd like to see her, you'll see what I mean," Meredith breathed, her gaze turning once more to the spot on her desk, as she remained slouched in her tall-backed chair.

"If I'd _like_ to see her?" I questioned.

"Yes, you're released of your debt. Ginny's in no state to be learning, Draco. She's really in no state for much other than speaking, and that's on a good day," Meredith explained.

"… As easy as that?" I wondered aloud.

"Easy as that," she agreed. "Payment for the damage your mother inflicted… it's been paid, you're released. If you'd like to visit Ginny now, you'll have to do so as a visitor, but, I can't say you'll be allowed in. The last few days, weeks, or months… when we get to say "last few", really… those are times for family, and family alone. Usually, that is."

"I see," I said, though I really didn't.

"But I can assure you one visit with her without any interference, though it can be no longer than thirty minutes, and it will most likely be shorter," she offered.

"Do so," I instructed, and she gave a shrug-like motion that signalled she'd do as much.

"When can I see her?"

She looked at me, her eyes piercing in a way I found discomfitting. I wondered briefly what she was looking for, but she spoke, and her voice broke my thoughts. "I'll owl you when I know, Malfoy. Just hope that owl can fly faster than Death can swing its scythe."

_---------------------------------------------_

"Mr. Malfoy," Ginny greeted, but I could only stare, her wheezing words not breaking through my shock. "Mr…. Mr. Mal…foy?"

"Your… your," I could only gape.

She smiled a sad smile and reached up to rub the peach fuzz that was now her hair. The colour of her hair was evident even in those small stubs, yet it was nothing in comparison to what it was before. It held not even a portion of the life it once held. It was… empty. I hated it with every pore that was capable of hatred on my body- and, if the mark on my left forearm is any signal, there's enough hatred in my pores to go about.

"I am taking Muggle treatments, now," she breathed. "They did this to me, I guess."

Brilliant. Bloody - fucking - brilliant. _Exactly_ what I needed, I thought. Another reason to hate Muggles.

"Mr. Malfoy, what do you," she paused to cough, "think of wintertime?"

"I detest it," I told her. I believe that was the only time I've ever told the complete, entire truth in my life.

_---------------------------------------------_

_So the end presented itself to me. It hadn't come yet, but I could see it upon the horizon, taunting and cruel as it was. Yet I didn't accept it. Ginny had escaped death this time, why not the next? Why not the time after that? My mind seemed incapable of grasping the idea of death touching this girl that seemed so paradoxically strong, yet physically weak, before my very eyes._

_It was true, what Meredith said. The "last few" era was reserved for families. I was denied time and time again when I attempted to visit Ginny. I was clawing at any chance to get back in to see her._

_Why?_

… _I've never really thought about it. I didn't love Ginny, that much I know. I was far too selfish to love anything. I also didn't understand friendship, so I doubt I was doing it for that reason. No, maybe, just maybe, there's not a reason for it. Maybe there are people that are just naturally drawn to each other, that just fit and are comfortable together, and maybe I'm too weak of a person to be brave at the thought of that comfort being taken from me. Or maybe Ginny was something given to me, a chance to wake up from the hell I'd been living and see the heaven that existed to balance it all out. _

_I don't know the why, I don't know the how, but I know that Ginny must have understood, because, one day, the 18th of January, I was sent an owl by Meredith that gave me a time slot at which I could see Ginny and speak to her. Meredith explained that Ginny herself requested it._

_I'll never be able to get the last line of that bit of post out of my mind's eye:_

Say your goodbyes, Malfoy. This is the last time.

* * *

**Author's Note: **And thus ends chapter four. Chapter five is underway, I've already got a little bit of it figured out and, thus, typed. I'd like to ask everyone who's reading this to check out the link on my profile. It's kind of fantastic, as you'll see. I also need all the help I can get with it. :)

PLEASE REVIEW.

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Reviews make my days a little brighter.


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